


Breakwater

by circadian_rythm



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fog Warriors, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, Pirates, Slave Trade, Slavery, Smuggling, Tevinter Imperium
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:44:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5614360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circadian_rythm/pseuds/circadian_rythm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.” </p><p>Aurelio Lucilius had thought there could be no worse life than a non-mage in the land of Tevinter. But, as he stared down the blade pointed between his eyes, he was beginning to rethink his choices quite seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakwater

**Author's Note:**

> The characters in this story were originally meant as minor characters in an Inquisition story I am writing, but they were all far too interesting for only a few chapters. Set in the timeline in Dragon Age II through Inquisition. Characters from both Dragon Age II and Inquisition will be mentioned and perhaps make brief appearances.

_Somewhere in the Venefication Sea, off the coast of Rivain_

 

It started with fog. He’d been staring hopelessly at a length of rigging, trying to remember what knot he was supposed to use when someone from the crow’s nest had shouted down and everyone had turned to the west.

“We’re too far out for fog off the coast, aren’t we captain?” Someone called out. Aurelio continued to stare at the fog billowing towards them. Fogs didn’t billow like that…they crept, slow and steady and unheeding of what lay in its path. But this fog seemed to move almost with a purpose. Somewhere in his head he knew that this fog meant something. And not something pleasant.

“Andraste’s tits, it’s the fucking Jackal!” Aurelio paled. Oh. Oh that’s right. Oh _fuck_. This was not how this was supposed to happen. The deck exploded in motion as slavers and sailors alike moved. Aurelio was surprised he wasn’t pushed overboard by the influx, and barely managed to wedge himself between two barrels of rainwater as a particularly large man shoved past. One of the slavers, he believed. A man with a heavy hand and few words.

“Get those slaves rowing!” The captain roared. “We’ll outrun the bastard!”

 _No you won’t. No one ever outruns the Scarlet Ibis_ , Aurelio thought dazedly, but didn’t comment. The Jackal’s infamous man-of-war was known for being faster than it should have been, for a ship so large. Aurelio had always assumed that it was a tall tale, to lessen the shame that came with being captured by the infamous pirate. The sails flapped violently above him, the sound drowning out the sailors’ shouts. Full sail and the slaves rowing below. Would it be enough? The wind wasn’t in their favor but it wasn’t against them either, which meant that unless the Scarlet Ibis pulled out their own rowing crew they’d be able to pull away. And everyone knew that the Scarlet Ibis had no rowing crew. The ship wasn’t built for one.

And yet the fog continued toward them, uncaring of the wind that blew against it. If anything, it seemed to speed up, rippling over the waves like a cloak. This was not how this was supposed to happen! Aurelio swallowed. He’d had it all planned out. He needed three more days before he could take out the captain and the slavers and commandeer the ship. _He_ was supposed to save the slaves, not the most bloodthirsty pirate in all of Thedas! Everyone knew what it meant for the Jackal to catch a slave ship. Only slaves made it out alive. Everyone else on board met a painful end. How was he going to get out of this now?

“What are you doing, ya bloody sandcrab! Get to work!”

Aurelio started at the shout, and nearly tripped over one of the barrels beside him. One of the sailors had rounded on him, cutlass shining in the morning light. Aurelio’s hands unconsciously went to the short sword at his own hip, but he didn’t draw it. “Right.” He managed to croak out, and the sailor rolled his eyes and shoved past.

“How the blood hell are they moving so fast?”

“Out o’ the way, sandcrab!”

“Get yer slaves to work.” That was the captain staring down Aurelio’s employer, a man named Batius. “If we don’t make it out of this, your cargo won’t be going to any markets.”

“If any of them die from exhaustion because of this, I am holding you responsible!” Batius boomed. Aurelio saw the captain turn toward the slaver, fist clenched. “Get them to work.” He repeated, before heading back to the helm.

It all happened so very quickly after that. For a moment it seemed like they’d gained a lead, the galley cutting through waves, the grunts of the slaves below with each row—and then the fog rolled in. The crew went silent the moment it happened, as if they’d been enveloped by silence as well. Then only sound was the creak of wood and waves. Then the clunk of boots against the deck.

Then screams.

Aurelio shoved himself further back between the two barrels, clutching the short sword at his side tightly. Not that it would do him any good when he couldn’t see a thing and he was outnumbered. He pressed his back against the rough-grain of the railing and tried to come up with a plan that didn’t end with him walking the plank or run through by a pirate cutlass. He could hear the battle on the deck around him, metal hitting metal, the crackling of magic cutting through the fog. That must have been the mage Batius had brought with him to mind the slaves. Sailors rarely kept mages on-board.

A grunt, and then a body slammed into the barrel to his right. Aurelio flinched, lips pressed tightly together to keep from yelling as water sloshed out of the top, soaking him to the bone. The body slumped to the ground, one calloused hand landing near his boot, twitching. 

The fog was slowly thinning and lifting, patches of sunlight and blue sky drifting overhead as the battle raged on. It was hard to tell how the fight was panning out from where he hid, and his pride was smarting the longer he remained here, but pride didn’t do anything for a dead man. And a dead man he’d be if he stepped out now. He had a feeling he was a dead man either way, but he wasn’t going to speed up the event, with the off-chance that the infamous and bloodthirsty Jackal would be reasonable enough to hear him out and not skewer him on sight.

The sounds of battle slowly faded, replaced by grunts and curses and the moans of dying men.

“Tie ‘em up,” A shout echoed over the deck. “The ship’s ours!”

A raucous cheer went up from the crew.

The sailor who had landed near him twitched again, letting out a gurgled cough. Aurelio froze. Shit. Shit if he kept making sounds…a shadow moved past him, “Let’s end this quick, shem.” He heard the sound of a blade meeting flesh, and the hand stilled. For a brief moment he thought he was safe, as the footsteps seemed to fade away. Then one of the barrels was shoved aside and the shadow fell over him fully. “Look what we have here…”

Aurelio swallowed back a curse as he stared up into the tattooed face of an elf and the sword in his hands, a length of yellow hair tied back with a garish bandana. He grinned down at Aurelio, white teeth stark against his tan skin, canines a bit too pointed than normal. “Captain!” The elf called over his shoulder. “I found another one. This one’s even pretty. Like a little shem lordling.”

Well, that wasn’t that far off. Aurelio continued to stare down the blade, trying not to think about how close the tip was to his nose. He heard footsteps, slow and steady and sure amidst the grunts and yells, and the swish of a cape as a pair of slim and well-made boots came into his line of sight. He followed the boots up a pair of well-defined calves and up further, lingering a bit on the sliver of cleavage visible through a white blouse, before landing on the bemused smile and whisky colored eyes beneath the rim of a silver hat.

The captain in question—this was the captain of the Scarlett Ibis? The Jackal? The most feared pirate in all of Thedas?—sheathed her rapier and eyed him coolly. She continued to look at him, but when she spoke it was to the elf at her side. “Has Poloma finished a sweep of the ship?”

“All of the crew are accounted for.” The blonde elf nodded. “Nanok found the captain’s log. We just need to do a nice little headcount before we start lopping them off.”

“And the cargo?”

“Safe and sound.”

“Have Carmo come aboard and look them over. See if anyone is injured.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

The Jackal crouched down to eye level with Aurelio, leather breeches pulled taught over muscled legs, “So,” She tilted her head. “Did you understand that?” She asked in accented Tevene. It took him a moment to realize that she’d been speaking with the elf in the trade tongue.

Aurelio nodded slowly. “Yes,” He replied. “I did.”

“When I’m handed the crew log…I wonder where your name will be.” She murmured, reaching out to flick the golden hoop in his left ear. He flinched, but knew better than to move. “Sailor or slaver? Surely not slave.”

“I—” He coughed, throat dry. He swallowed a few times to wet it before he continued. “I am not a slaver or a sailor. This isn’t what it looks like. In fact, there’s a very amusing explanation for all of this.”

“Oh I am certain I will be thoroughly amused by your explanations.” She agreed, standing with his short sword in hand. He hadn’t even noticed her grab it from his belt. “I look forward to your excuses.” She turned to another passing pirate, handing him the weapon. “Tie him up with the rest.”

It didn’t take long for Aurelio to find himself pressed into the crowd of bodies near the central mast. There was a surprising amount of them still alive, both sailors and slavers alike. Most of them sported wounds of some sort. One had a hand pressed to his stomach, and Aurelio was certain he could see the man’s intestines peeking out between his fingers. His stomach heaved, and he swallowed down bile as he was shoved roughly into the group.

Aurelio took the chance to look around at the crew of the Scarlet Ibis. Aside from the Jackal there were very few humans. Most of the rest of the crew were elves, with one notable exception. A towering qunari who stood near the captured slavers, muscles glistening with sweat and sea water.

To the left the Scarlet Ibis towered over the slave galley. It was a behemoth of a ship, and its deck was full of more pirates, all staring down at the scene below them. Some looked to be making bets with one another. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, the wind carrying their voices away from him.

A single figure walked across the gangplank from the Scarlet Ibis toward them, a copper-skinned woman dressed in the style of Rivain. She nodded her head at the captain. “Where are they?”

“Fiero is bringing them up.” The Jackal jerked her chin in the direction of the hold.

The slaves filed onto deck, blinking at the bright early afternoon sunlight. They hadn’t been above deck since they’d been captured and placed on the ship. They were thin, underfed, and exhausted. Even with the Rivaini woman hovering over them, healing magic flitting from her fingers to the more grievously injured, it was obvious that they’d need more medical treatment later. Twenty-seven of them, most of them elves with a few humans and one dwarf.

“Now,” The Jackal clapped her hands. “Let us begin, shall we? I am certain everyone is eager to be underway.”

“I will pay you. I have friends among the magisters in Tevinter. Name your price—” Batius was cut off by a resounding crack as the large qunari backhanded him, sending him sprawling forward on the deck.

“There’s no reason to be so anxious. If you haven’t done anything wrong then you will come to no harm.” The Jackal continued amicably. “We’re all fair here, aren’t we?” The crew all sported grins, and a few snickered. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Here is what we’ll do. I’m going to call out your names from this lovely little register in my hands.” She held up the leather-bound book. “And you’ll answer promptly when I do. And then our guests over there will decide your guilt.” She nodded at the slaves. The crew began to pale, several muttering curses and prayers alike.

“Now let’s begin with our dear Captain Browning.” She glanced over at the crew.

“Dead, Captain. Skewered through when we took the ship.” One of the pirates supplied.

“Ah, a pity.” The Jackal nodded. “Very well. First mate Rogers.”

There was silence, before a large bearded man finally rasped out, “Aye, that’s me.” “First mate Rogers, please stand.” She motioned casually. When he did so she turned to the freed slaves. “This man is up for judgment. As a sailor he followed the orders of his captain who provided transport for the slaver Batius. If he has wronged any of you, speak now.”

A young elf woman stepped forward, bruised and shaking with bitterness in her voice and hate in her eyes. “He has wronged _me_.” She was pretty, aside from the large bruise that covered half her face. It took no genius to know what had been done to her, not with the way she shook, not with the blood that had trickled down her legs and dried there beneath her flimsy homespun dress.

The Jackal nodded solemnly. “For his crimes, first mate Rogers will be sentenced to death.” She waved her hand and two of the pirates hauled Rogers forward, even as the man cursed and shouted. She turned to the young elf. “Should he die by sea or by sword?”

The young elf glanced down at her own hands, fingers trembling. “I…” Then her jaw tightened and she squared her shoulders. “By sword.”

The Jackal gave her a nod of approval and stepped forward, handing over a long, thin dagger. She looked back to the men holding Rogers. “Keep hold.” The elf stared down at the blade she’d been given, then to the man held in front of her. For a moment it looked like she wouldn’t do it. The blade shook in her hands, the tip resting against the cloth of the man’s shirt. First mate Rogers jerked back with a sneer, “Can’t do it can you, knife-eared bitch?”

Her head snapped up, eyes filled with venom and mouth twisted in murderous rage. She shoved the blade into his stomach. He let out a grunt as she pulled the blade out, eyes fixated on the crimson stain that was quickly spreading across his chest.

She thrust the blade in a second time, letting out a sob as the man gasped, blood bubbling up to his lips. “Bastard!” She cried, plunging the blade into his shoulder. “Die. Die. _Die_.” With each repetition of the word the blade found new purchase. The deck below her bare feet became slick, and the blade made a squelching sound as it hit blood-soaked skin and clothes. It seemed to take ages, until the young elf’s strength finally left her as she pulled back, exhausted, and dropped the blade. It hit the deck with a soft thump.

The two pirates holding the first mate’s corpse pulled back and tossed it over the side of the ship. It hit the water with a splash. There was a long moment of drawn out silence, before the Jackal looked back down at the book in her hands. “Quartermaster Lefaux.”

Not all of the crew fared as badly as first mate Rogers. An elf spoke up for the cook, who was known to sneak rations to the slaves when the slavers withheld food. The cabin boy who gave two of the humans ginger for their seasickness was spared. Two other sailors who had stopped some of their own crew from beating a few of the elves were also let off. The others were sentenced to death by sea.

None of them were given death by sword, not after the brutal and crazed performance by the female elf. The young elf in question still stood, trembling, blood dripping from her fingertips, but she looked stronger and more in control than Aurelio had seen her look since they’d captured her. As if taking the man’s life had given her back some of her own.

When it came to the slavers, the Jackal looked down at the list. “Slaver Batius, well.” She sighed. “Death by sea or by sword?”

“What? I should be given the same chance as everyone else!” Batius shouted, red-faced and sweating. “I have a right to justice!”

“You are a slave merchant. Your guilt is already assigned.” The Jackal said casually. “I will give you the mercy of choosing for yourself. Sea or sword?”

“You will not get away with this, you crazed bitch!” The large qunari grabbed Batius by the throat and held the man up, face savage as his grip tightened and Batius wheezed. The qunari continued to tighten his grip, as Batius’ face went from red to purple. Still, he fought, nails digging into the skin of the qunari’s arm. The qunari gave a growl low in his throat and squeezed. There was a snapping sound and a squelch as blood and bone caved in and burst and Batius went limp. “Use him as bait for the sharks.” The qunari muttered, throwing the body toward two of the other pirates.

The Jackal watched it all calmly, before turning back to the rest of the slavers. “Perhaps some of you have reasons for doing what you did. You are still guilty of being slavers and will be punished. But perhaps your sentences will be lighter, if any were to speak for you.” She looked down at the book in her hands. “Now…”

By the time it came to him, Aurelio was certain he would die. He had not been cruel to any of the slaves but he had not been overly kind, not enough for any to remember him, he figured. “Aurelio Lucilius,” The Jackal finally called, glancing over at him. “Are there any who will stand for this man? Or any who have been wronged?”

There was a long stretch of silence. No one moved or spoke.

“You have wronged no one but have aided no one. Apathy is as dangerous as violence.” The Jackal murmured.

“Please, I only needed three more days.” Aurelio found himself blabbering. “I was going to commandeer this ship and free the slaves, I swear it.”

The crew laughed, and he saw the corner of the Jackal’s lips curl in a sneer. “What noble intent.”

“Poloma,” The Jackal finally called, closing the book with one hand. “What do you know of house Lucilius?”

A pale elf dropped down from the upper deck. “A minor house, but a wealthy one.” She spoke in Tevene, her accent impeccable. Aurelio could see scars on her wrists and around her neck. “Headed by an Altus with only one child with no magic to speak of.”

“Oh indeed?” The Jackal purred. “Well, I think your life has been spared then, little lord. At our next docking I will have a letter penned to Altus Lucilius for the ransom of his son.” Aurelio swallowed. He was going to live…as a hostage? While he was grateful to be spared execution, going back to his father would be nearly as bad. His father would do anything to get him back, that he knew fully well. But once he was returned to Minrathous he would never be allowed to leave. This had been a one-time chance, and it had ended as quickly as it had begun.

“Now that our business is concluded…I am certain that our traveling companions are hungry.”

“Batius was only a small snack. They’re famished.” One of the crew snickered, looking down over the side of the ship to the water below where they’d dumped the body. There was only the sound of thrashing.

Aurelio paled. Death by sea was not drowning.


End file.
